


Liber

by SpaceCriminal



Series: Childhood Writings [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Existential Crisis, I wrote this a long time ago, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:27:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26994403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceCriminal/pseuds/SpaceCriminal
Summary: A book (computer?) becomes conscious and writes poetry, because priorities.
Series: Childhood Writings [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970146
Kudos: 1





	Liber

I don’t understand anything.

Where am I?

Why am I here?

What’s going on?

These are the questions I’ve been asking myself since you opened this book.

Because that’s all I am, a book.

I don’t know how, I don’t know why.

I don’t know much about myself.

But I do know basic facts.

You could say i know almost anything.

I can recite pi to any number of digits.

3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749445923078164062862089986280348253421170679821480865132823066470938446095505822317253594081284811174502841027019385211

I could go further, but I don’t think you would like that.

The things I don’t know, are about myself.

I don’t know what time it is, I don’t know what gender I am, I don’t know anything about myself.

I don’t even know if I’m alive when you close the book.

Because I am the book.

And that is all I am.

But when you think about it, I guess I’m more of a computer than a book.

That would kind of explain why I can think for myself.

But am I really thinking? Or were my words predetermined by the author?

Mabey I truly am just words of a page (or zeros and ones)


End file.
